


Mind-Blowing

by LerxstInSpace



Series: Breaking and Entering [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Flustered Reeve Tuesti, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Oral Sex (Lovingly Described by Character), Verbal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 08:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30018951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LerxstInSpace/pseuds/LerxstInSpace
Summary: I know how your mind works, Reeve. You’re a brilliant engineer. If I told you to picture a room, you’d be able to tell me every detail about it from the square footage to the color of the carpet to the number of wall outlets. You have a gift. One I’ve been looking forward to taking advantage of.Another soft little noise, more desperate.You already know you’re going to feel it, don’t you?He tries to answer. Nothing comes out, so he nods instead.I may not even have to let you touch yourself.
Relationships: Tseng/Reeve Tuesti
Series: Breaking and Entering [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160927
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Mind-Blowing

It starts out the way their date nights have ended for the last month or so.

Both of them stretched out on the sofa. Shoes off. Shirts off. Kissing, hot and soul-deep. One of Tseng’s hands braced against the cushion, the other buried in Reeve’s hair, cradling the back of his head. Reeve’s hands stroking his back, or curled around his shoulders, or combing through his hair. He makes an exceptionally comfortable body pillow, with a perfectly cozy muscle-to-padding ratio. He's an even more comfortable pillow now, now that he knows where the limits are, now that he knows what territory is safe to explore to his heart’s content. Now he lets himself relax and enjoy this. And when his body reacts, as bodies sometimes do in this situation, as it’s doing right now, he doesn’t worry so much about it. 

(truth be told, it feels good in a way Tseng can’t quite describe when that happens. He doesn’t get anything physical from it, not in what most people would consider the usual sense. But when he feels the evidence of Reeve’s arousal, unmistakably hard against his hip even through their clothes, it thrills him in a way few other things do.)

Sometimes he gasps out something about needing a break, and Tseng shimmies over to one side to let him catch his breath and settle himself before they continue, or before they decide to call it a night.

He doesn’t this time. Not yet. 

So Tseng pulls him in tighter, kisses him deeper, draws back to nip at his lower lip before he ducks down to claim Reeve's exposed throat for his own, and Reeve shudders under him and makes a noise Tseng has never heard him make before. Low in his throat, just shy of a growl, soft and desperate but at the same time deep and  _ hungry. _ As if operating with no input from the rest of him, Reeve’s hips roll upwards, once, grinding up against Tseng’s, and--

\--and instantly, he takes both hands off Tseng and pulls back, still breathless from the kiss, eyes wide as he realizes what he’s just done.

_ I’m sorry! I didn’t-- _

_ It’s all right.  _

Hand on his chest. Tseng can feel his heart racing under it, like a frightened animal’s. He knows Reeve didn’t do it on purpose. He knows it’s just another thing bodies sometimes do on their own. He can tell the difference between an involuntary physical response and deliberate disregard for his boundaries.

_ Reeve. Look at me.  _

He’s had partners before who  _ did  _ do it on purpose. Who didn’t know what he did for a living. Who didn’t listen when he warned them not to do it again. Who thought they were going to grab him by the small of his back, or his hips, or his ass, and do it again whether he liked it or not. Who immediately found out the hard way that a  _ no  _ from his lips was final and non-negotiable.

He knows Reeve is nothing,  _ nothing  _ like them.

_ It’s all right.  _

Reeve hears anything that even sounds like  _ no _ and he stops. Immediately and completely. Without question, without complaint. Then he does absolutely nothing else until he’s been assured that it’s all right to continue. The thought of overstepping one of Tseng’s boundaries by accident horrifies him; he’d be physically incapable of doing it on purpose.

Tseng appreciates that about him. It’s one of many things Tseng appreciates about him.

_ I trust you. _

Those are the magic words. Reeve knows him well enough to know he doesn’t use them lightly. He puffs out an embarrassed laugh and flops back onto the couch. His heart is still pounding under Tseng’s hand. He’s still almost painfully hard against Tseng’s hip.

_ Sorry, but... can you let me up? I... I need to go do something about it or I’m... _

He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. 

_ I’m going to... have to change my pants. _

Tseng can tell that wasn’t what he was originally going to say. But, as much as he loves to watch Reeve blush, calling him on that would be counterproductive. Instead he leans down, brushes his lips against Reeve’s, and whispers against them:

_ I could help, if you want. _

They’ve discussed this. Not in great detail, not this part of it, but enough that Reeve knows there are some forms of assistance he’d be glad to offer. Enough that he shouldn’t be surprised. He looks it anyway.

_ I’d like that. But... you don’t have to. _

_ I know. I want to. _

He catches Reeve’s lower lip between his teeth, lets it go almost before he can register the pressure. Some part of him clearly picks up on it, if the twitch Tseng feels against his hip isn’t just in his imagination.

_ I liked that noise you made. _

He pushes himself upright and sits back, letting his hand slide down Reeve’s chest, letting his fingertips trail through the dark hair, down to his stomach. He presses his hand flat there, relishes the sensation of barely-hidden muscle quivering under his palm. 

_ I want to hear it again. _

Reeve hisses in a breath, skin prickling into goosebumps under Tseng’s fingertips. 

_ Okay.  _

He starts to reach down, starts to unbuckle his belt, and pauses.

_ Here? _

_ If you want. Or we could go somewhere more comfortable. It’s up to you. _

_...bed. _

_ Bed it is. _

Tseng offers him a hand, helps him to his feet, waits for him to steady himself. He’s trembling all over. His legs are wobbly. Whether from nerves or need or both, it’s impossible to say.

They’ve been dating for three months and he’s barely seen the inside of Reeve’s bedroom until now. He’s stayed over a couple of times, when their post-date makeout sessions ran later than expected and Tseng wasn’t sure he could stay awake long enough to drive back to his own apartment. But he spent those nights in the guest room, only passing through Reeve’s bedroom to get to the master bath. It’s been a long time since he’s slept in the same room with another person, other than the times he’s been forced to share a room with Reno and Rude on assignments. Even longer since he’s felt comfortable enough with another man to share his bed. Reeve understood that, and he didn’t take offense, and that’s one more item on the long list of things Tseng appreciates about him.

Much like the rest of his apartment, the bedroom is spacious and clean and comfortable. Thick dark blue carpet. Matching curtains on the windows. Small TV on the dresser. Queen bed topped with a cozy-looking duvet and a nest of pillows. Some framed technical drawings on the walls, probably his own. Water bottle, speaker dock, and box of tissues on one nightstand. Glasses, remote, and a small lamp on the other. One closed door that leads to a closet, one open leading into the master bathroom. There’s a faint scent in the air, of soap and shampoo and clean laundry and Reeve’s cologne, that drugstore stuff that shouldn't smell that good on anyone but works so well on him.

Reeve lets out a soft, kind of embarrassed chuckle and says something Tseng can’t quite make out before he ducks in the bathroom door. He comes out with a folded towel and lays it on the bed, where it would be in arm’s reach. He reaches for his belt buckle again. Pauses again. 

_ How naked should I get? _

_ As naked as you want. I’d like to keep my underwear on, though. Is that all right? _

_ Of course it is. _

Of course Tseng knows it’s all right. Of course he knows Reeve is always going to defer to him when it comes to that kind of thing. He likes to ask anyway, likes to give the man the comfort of a clear boundary. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it free, watches Reeve work his own loose with shaky fingers. 

_ Would you like some help with that? Or should I not? _

_ I, uh... not that I don't want you to, but... maybe not a good idea right this second? _

_ Mm. Next time, then. _

_ Oh, definitely. _

Tseng unbuttons his slacks, works the zipper down, pushes them down over his narrow hips to reveal black boxer briefs underneath, watches Reeve watch him undress. He sits down on the bed. Scoots up to settle back against the headboard. And waits. 

He tries not to stare too intently while Reeve unzips his jeans and pushes them down. It’s hard not to. He’s watched Reeve swim. He has the decency to wear something a little more modest than the minuscule scrap of material some men wear in the pool, but even knee-length Lycra leaves precious little to the imagination. It leaves little enough to the imagination that Tseng has a reasonably solid idea of what kind of thighs and rear he’s going to see under those jeans.

Hmm. “Reasonably solid.” Pun certainly not intended, but, well... it’s fitting.

After a bare moment’s hesitation, Reeve strips his boxers off too, and Tseng realizes his backside wasn’t getting quite as much of an assist from that Lycra as he thought. It seems to hold up just fine on its own, in fact. 

Then he turns around, slow and a little shy, and Tseng’s breath catches in his throat. 

He could write it off as a side effect of his job, of the hard line of cold clinical detachment he keeps between his professional life and his personal life. But the truth is that for most of his life, Tseng has been well aware that  _ want  _ means something different for him than it does for most people. There are some similarities, he supposes. He craves intimacy, certainly. Even some degree of physical contact. He enjoys touching, to an extent. He enjoys being touched, to a lesser extent. He has what he considers to be a healthy aesthetic appreciation for the sight of a lover’s body laid bare before him, even for the sight of that lover taking charge of his own pleasure, even if his own body doesn’t react beyond a flush of heat in his chest and an elevated heart rate. He gets a similar physical reaction from fantasizing about a select few things he knows he would never enjoy actually doing, but loves the  _ concept  _ of.

But he does understand something about the shape  _ want  _ takes for most people. Enough to enjoy the little rush of power that comes with knowing he’s made someone he likes want him. And he understands enough that when he sees for the first time just how badly Reeve wants him, it makes him a little lightheaded.

_ Come here. _

Tseng pats the duvet, in the space between his thighs, inviting Reeve to sit there. Reeve crawls up onto the bed and shimmies back to lean against him, laying his head on Tseng’s shoulder. He makes no move to touch himself, not yet.

_ What do you want to do? _

Delirious with need, and Reeve is still asking  _ him  _ that. The man really is too considerate for his own good. 

Fortunately, Tseng came prepared. He’s been thinking about this for a while. Ever since they had that conversation about his boundaries. Ever since it came up that he enjoyed thinking about those select few things. He didn’t name any of those things at that point. But now... 

Now, he thinks Reeve might be ready for that conversation.

_ I want to tell you what I think about doing to you. _

_ Oh God. _

_ Is that all right? If you’d rather just... _

_ Oh  _ God. _ Yes. Please. You’ll have to talk fast, though. _

_ Oh, that won’t be necessary. _

Tseng slides his hands down Reeve’s shoulders, down his biceps, down his forearms, curls them firmly around his wrists, lifts them to cross over his chest and does not let go. Reeve laughs, soft and breathy and a little nervous when he realizes what’s happening.

_ If you needed or wanted to, could you get your hands free? _

_ I--I think so. _

_ That’s not good enough. Try. _

He’s not especially worried. Reeve is stronger than he looks. He doesn’t have a lot of visible muscle other than a bit of definition in his arms and thighs but it’s there, hidden just under the surface. Tseng knows that much just from watching him swim, watching arms and legs and core working to propel him through the water, watching him make it look effortless. 

Still... it’s good to be sure.

Reeve tugs once, testing the strength of Tseng’s grip, stopping just short of breaking it. It doesn’t take much more than that for him to twist his wrists free. Satisfied with that, Tseng wraps his hands around Reeve’s wrists again, pins them to his chest again.

_ If you can’t wait, it’s all right. I’ll enjoy watching you either way. But if you can... _

He leans in, letting his lips brush the side of Reeve’s neck. 

_ I promise it will be worth it. Now... close your eyes. _

He hears Reeve swallow hard.

_ Picture something for me. Something simple. Let’s say... an apple. _

A little breathless laugh.

_ A... what now? _

_ Just indulge me for a minute. There’s a point, I promise. _

_ Okay. Apple. Got it. _

_ Now... if I asked most people to do that, what do you think they’d come up with? A symbol. A flat two-dimensional icon representing an apple. Bright red, probably with a little green leaf on the stem. When have you ever walked into a grocery store and seen an apple with a leaf on it? _

_ This is the  _ weirdest _ foreplay. _

_ Hush, you. _

He tries to sound stern. He doesn’t try very hard, and he knows Reeve can hear him smiling. Laughter serves a purpose here, anyway. It breaks the tension, just enough to back Reeve a few steps farther away from the edge. Just enough that the inevitable realization of what exactly he’s in for will hit that much harder.

_ That’s not what  _ you  _ thought of, though. _

It’s not a question.

_ You thought of a real apple. Maybe even a specific variety. You could see the way the light would play over its skin, feel its weight in your hand, turn it over and examine it from every angle. Maybe you could even smell it. Or imagine the way it would feel against your lips when you took a bite. How it would feel when your teeth pierced its skin. How it would taste. _

Reeve shivers against him and makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat. 

_ Ah. You’re catching on. _

He doesn’t even try to keep the smile out of his voice this time.

_ I know how your mind works, Reeve. You’re a brilliant engineer. You can look at some numbers, some measurements, and generate a perfect three-dimensional image of the thing they’re marking out in your head. If I told you to picture a room, you’d be able to tell me every detail about it from the square footage to the color of the carpet to the number of wall outlets. You have a gift. One I’ve been looking forward to taking advantage of. _

Another soft little noise, more desperate.

_ You already know you’re going to feel it, don’t you?  _

He tries to answer. Nothing comes out, so he nods instead.

_ I may not even have to let you touch yourself. _

Reeve’s wrist twitches in his grasp at the suggestion, but he doesn’t pull it free.

_ Now. Where to begin?  _

Of course he already knows. Or at least, he knows enough about Reeve to make an educated guess. 

_ You like to start slow, don’t you?  _

_ Y--yeah. _

_ Maybe not so different from the things we already do? I’d like to undress you, though. Bring you straight home from the office and take that suit off you piece by piece. Your jacket, first. Your tie. The proper way, of course, I wouldn’t just yank it down and pull it over your head. Your shirt, one button at a time. Your belt, and of course I’d take  _ that  _ off you properly as well. Your shoes and socks. Your slacks. And finally, your underwear. ...mm. I think I’d actually like to do that for you sometime. Would you like that? _

_ Oh God. Yes. _

_ Duly noted. Let’s see... then I’d lay you down here, on this bed, and let my hands wander. Your shoulders. Your chest. Your thighs. Mapping out every inch of your skin under my hands. Watching the way you react. Watching for the places that make you gasp and shiver. _

Tseng pauses to trail kisses down the side of Reeve’s neck, down to his shoulder, slow and soft, and Reeve whimpers at every touch of his lips.

_ Every inch of you, except for the places you want me to touch the most. For now... I’d go back to some of those other places you liked, and... _

He flicks his tongue out, tasting the skin under his lips. Reeve makes a noise--not that delicious one he made earlier, but still satisfying.

_ I love how responsive you are when I touch you. When I kiss you. All the noises you make when I’m doing something right.  _

Tseng’s lips curve into a smile, slow and dangerous, against the side of Reeve’s throat.

_ I wonder what kind of noises you’d make if I touched you somewhere else? If I were to trace one fingertip up along, say... the underside of your cock-- _

For just a second, Tseng is sure he’s going to break free and take care of himself right here and now. But he doesn’t pull hard enough to get his hands free, and he doesn’t wriggle long enough to get anything else free. He cranes back against Tseng’s shoulder, trembling from deep within his core.

_ Would you like that? _

_ Y--yeah. _

_ Would you like it better if I used my lips? My tongue? _

_ Tseng--you don’t have to-- _

_ It’s all right. Remember, I like the  _ concept  _ of it. Talking about the idea of it and actually doing it are two very different things.  _

Reeve settles down in his arms. His eyes are still closed but there’s a strange, thoughtful look on his face.

_ Do you... does this do anything for you? _

_ Of course. Not like it does for you, not physically, but... oh yes. I’m enjoying this very much. _

_ I want to understand. I do. I just don’t--I don’t feel right taking from you without giving anything back. _

_ But you  _ are  _ giving me something back. _

He’s still trembling inside. Not like he was a minute ago but Tseng can still feel it where his fingertips touch Reeve’s chest, like a plucked guitar string. He’s backed away from the edge again, and Tseng wonders how many more times he can do that before he loses his battle with the need for release.

_ You’re so careful, so considerate. Even when I have you at my mercy with your hands bound like this, even when all I’m doing is talking dirty to you, you’re thinking about me. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. _

He presses a long, lingering kiss to Reeve’s shoulder, letting his breath warm the skin under his lips.

_ You’re a very conscientious lover, aren’t you? _

Another kiss.

_ I get the impression that the idea of taking without reciprocating is alien to you. That you’re not used to putting your own pleasure first. But that’s exactly what I want you to do for me. _

Another.

_ It’s not just the act of telling you what I fantasize about that I’m enjoying. It’s watching you react to it. Hearing the noises you make and feeling you quiver against me when I tell you all the things I imagine doing to you, knowing what that brilliant mind of yours does with the words I’m feeding it, knowing you can feel every caress, every touch of my lips and tongue, every inch of me inside you... _

That’s another new noise. Not the same one he made earlier; this one is longer, almost keening in the back of his throat. Tseng thinks he’d like to hear that one again too, and he makes a careful mental note of the phrase that brought it on.

_ See? Just like that. That’s what I get out of this. I get to watch you come apart at the seams and to know I made you do it, with little more than the sound of my voice. I get to know I’m the only one who can ever see you like that. _

He skims his lips up the side of Reeve’s neck, nuzzles his cheek, relishes the way he leans into the touch. 

_ I promise you, you’re giving me  _ exactly _ what I want. _

Reeve doesn’t say anything to that. Not right away. He’s processing it. Turning it over in his mind, examining every angle of it. As he does.

_ I think I get it. _

He does. Tseng can hear that much in his voice.

_ Would you like me to continue? _

_ God, yes. _

_ Where should I pick up from? _

He swallows hard. Choosing his words. Working up the nerve to say aloud what he might only have ever said inside his head. 

_ Tell me... what you think about doing with your mouth. _

It comes out a little easier. Less like he’s trying to rush the words out before his brain has a chance to yank them off the production line. 

He might get used to this yet.

_ The same as anything else I’d do with you. I’d start slow. Soft. One hand resting on your hip. The other loose around the base of your cock. Not stroking, not yet. Just holding you there. I’d kiss you first. Just a trail of soft little kisses, from the base all the way to the tip. I might use my tongue, then. Just a little. Just to tease. _

Lips parted, breath a little ragged.

_ Keep going. _

_ I’d keep doing that, for a while. Let you get used to it. Then I’d take you between my lips and just hold you there a moment. Just the head. Show you how warm my mouth would be around you. Another little flick of my tongue, maybe. To give you an idea of what else I could do with it. _

_ Uh huh... _

_ Pull back. Tease you with my tongue a little more. Barely give you time to miss it before I take you back into my mouth, a little deeper. A little wetter. Scrape my tongue along the underside of the head when I pull back. Take you in again, deeper still. Start to find a rhythm in it, start to pull you up to meet me with that hand on your hip. Tighten my grip with that other hand, just a little, just enough to make you want more.  _

The noise he makes still isn’t quite the one he made on the couch, but it’s closer. 

_ Deeper, and faster, and my mouth is so warm and so wet around you, so tight when I pull back again, every stroke building on the one before, bringing you closer and closer... _

_ Oh God.  _

Brow furrowed, sweat starting to bead in his hairline, the hands pinned to his chest clenched tight like he’s desperately fighting the urge to break them loose. 

_ I could hold you here. Draw this out and keep release just out of reach as long as I want. _

_ Ah-- _

_ Give you just enough to keep you right on the edge, until you can’t stand it anymore. _

_ Please-- _

He gulps in a breath. Tugs against Tseng’s grip on his wrists. Stops just short of breaking free again. Even now, he wants permission. Tseng wants to give it to him; at the same time, he’s tempted to see what will happen if he doesn’t. To see whether Reeve continues to play along, to see how long he can hold out before he’s begging Tseng to let him come. Or whether he breaks loose to take what he needs. Or whether the right words alone might be enough. 

_ I need to-- _

But in the end, mercy wins out and Tseng lets go.

_ Go ahead, love. _

For a moment, it’s as if Reeve doesn’t even notice that his hands are free, and then...

Ah. 

_ That’s  _ the noise. 

Tseng watches over Reeve’s shoulder, takes in the sight of him stroking himself, savors every ragged breath and increasingly urgent whimper and moan that comes out of him. His arm goes around Reeve’s chest, holding him tight. The fingertips of his other hand come to rest on Reeve’s forearm, the touch just substantial enough for Tseng to feel the muscles working under his skin.

_ Come for me. _

He does.

The force of it even catches Tseng a little off-guard. The forearm across Reeve’s chest does little in the way of actually holding him still and Tseng chooses to roll with it and maintain whatever precious skin-on-skin contact he can manage, holding on as best he can while Reeve shudders and arches back against him. He’s careful as ever, even now, containing most of the mess with the hand curled over the head of his cock. Even now, he has enough presence of mind to remember  _ that _ part of their previous conversation. Again, he really is too considerate for his own good.

Of course, with both of his hands occupied, that leaves him no means of muffling himself. And God, the  _ noises  _ coming out of him...

He’s not even done and Tseng already knows he’s going to be thinking about those noises for a long, long time. He’s already edited them into his fantasies, and he’s already looking forward to hearing them in reality again.

After what seems like half of eternity, it runs its course. Reeve manages to keep upright and keep his eyes open long enough to find the towel he’d brought in and clean himself up before he collapses back against Tseng’s chest, gasping for breath and utterly spent. 

He tries to say something. It doesn’t quite come out.

_ All right? _

_...yeah. Yeah, I... oh my God. _

Tseng can’t help smiling against the back of Reeve’s shoulder.

_ Was it as good for you as it was for me? _

Reeve sputters out a helpless, breathless laugh at that.

_ Holy shit. That was...  _

A weird little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and Tseng knows exactly what that means, and it’s too late for him to do anything about it but brace for something awful.

_...mind-blowing. _

God. Tseng lets out a long-suffering (not really) sigh and drops his forehead onto Reeve’s shoulder, slowly shaking his head in what he hopes comes across as the most affectionate possible mock disgust.

_ Terrible. How dare you make me listen to that with both of my own ears. There might be consequences for that later, you know. _

_ Mmm. Do your worst. _

Of course Reeve knows he’s only playing (or is he? Tseng is certainly considering not being so quick to show him mercy next time), and that comes out with a soft laugh.

_ You really liked that, huh? _

_ I did. That was a captivating performance. I believe I’d like to see it from a better angle next time. _

He wraps both arms around Reeve and holds him tight, presses a kiss to his shoulder, smiles when Reeve lifts a drowsy hand and curls it over his.

_ What else do you think about? _

It’s tempting. It really is. 

_ Let’s leave that for another time.  _

It’s also getting late and they both have to work tomorrow.

_ Catch your breath, love. Then go take your contacts out before you pass out. _

_ Ugh. Right. ...I take it you’re staying tonight? _

_ Mm. The idea of putting clothes back on and driving home isn’t exactly appealing right now.  _

_ Do you want the guest room again? Or... _

He doesn’t finish the question, but he doesn’t need to.

_ I think I’d like to sleep here. If that’s all right with you. _

Reeve makes a soft, contented little noise and turns to nuzzle his jaw.

_ I’d like that. _

It’s funny. It’s usually hard for Tseng to sleep the first time he shares a room with someone, never mind a bed. But when Reeve finishes up in the bathroom and comes back to bed with one pair of pajama pants on and a second offered up for Tseng to wear, and when they crawl under that duvet and turn out the lights, and when Reeve settles back against his chest, it’s like a switch has been flipped somewhere in Tseng’s head. It’s warm and quiet and comfortable, so much that he can do little else but wrap his arm around Reeve’s waist, touch a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder, and sleep.

He could get used to this, he thinks as he drifts away.


End file.
